


Someday?

by timespaceredundancy



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timespaceredundancy/pseuds/timespaceredundancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete asks Patrick for favors, until he can't stand it anymore.</p><p>Prepare for the feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's Jelly Beans Everywhere

Patrick groaned at the sound of the curtain in front of his bunk sliding open. He knew what would come—it had happened countless times in the past five years.

“Trick?” Pete whispered. Patrick had already rolled over to face him, inching up against the wall to make room for Pete. The bassist’s face was streaked with tears, eyes bloodshot.

“Come here,” Patrick croaked out, his voice too tired from the night’s show to work properly. Pete crawled in and snuggled up to him until every inch of his back was pressed against Patrick’s front. His cold feet brushed up against Patrick’s legs, searching for warmth. Patrick grunted at the discomfort.

“Could you…” Pete began, interrupted by biting his own lip. He was shaking, his breath haggard. Patrick knew what he was asking.

“Of course.” He began to sing softly for the older man. “Honey is for bees, silly bear…”

As he reached the second refrain, he felt Pete’s breathing become steady and deep. Patrick finished the song, knowing it was falling on unconscious ears. He sighed, remembering that this would continue happening so long as they were within a few hours’ drive from eachother, and especially if they were on the bus. _At least it’s just this, and nothing more_. Patrick was happy to help Pete through these tough nights. It pained him to see his friend hurting, and he couldn’t help but want to do whatever he could to comfort him.


	2. Can't Be Sure When They Hit Their Mark

His mind raced, filled with bad ideas and urges to jump to all the wrong conclusions. Pete slumped down onto the bed, hands clasped, fidgeting with his fingers. Nothing was a good idea, but everything sounded like a great idea. His eyes darted around the room, refusing to focus on any one thing too long, until they found a spot on the chair to fixate on. Something about that spot on the chair was perfect to stare at and try to settle his thoughts. It helped him slightly, slowing some thoughts just long enough to push them off the shelf. No, it would not be a good idea to text that to Patrick. No, Ashlee did not want to hear from him again tonight. No, ordering everything on the room service menu was not viable. Yes, getting his notebook and pencil out were safe. Safe is good, good is doable. He reached across the gap between the bed and the desk for his backpack. Tonight, the red spiral notebook would be good. Pete pulled it out, along with the pencil clipped to its cover. _Be careful making wishes in the dark_ , he wrote. He had wished for more energy a few nights before, wanting to stay up and go out with Dirty and Chris one more time before they left Chicago, but found he had none and forced himself into bed. Now, the mania hit him like a high-voltage electric current, with just as much repercussion. If he didn’t have a morning show to do with Patrick tomorrow, he would have bar hopped and checked out the late night town to burn this off. But he had to deal with this somehow, and tonight he didn’t want to take pills to chase away the demon. He sat a while, writing more, simultaneously trying to think of a way to work out the energy.

Patrick burst into the room, dragging his feet and slamming the door behind him. His heavy, exhausted sighs did not go unnoticed, but Pete had already made other plans.

“Hey, Patrick, let’s do a thing!” he chirped, perked up and now sitting with his legs crossed. Pete bounced on the bed, hands on his knees. The look Patrick gave him said he knew exactly what Pete wanted to do, but he had no energy for anything, so no thank you.

“What thing, Pete?” Patrick asked anyways, clearly hoping his guess was wrong. A pang of guilt shot through Pete, overshadowed by the energy coursing through him.

“Let’s make a song! I have a new set of lyrics.” Pete’s word were punctuated with all of the drive he was feeling. He knew this vigor would only last so long before it took a turn for the worse, and he wanted to use it for good while he still could. Patrick saw this, and understood immediately that his tiredness was going to have to be put aside for a while if Pete were going to safely make it through the night. Pete could read every change in his face in minute detail, and again guilt shot through him as Patrick sighed in resignation. He hesitated for a moment, knowing Patrick was willing to sacrifice his sleep for Pete’s whims. It was possible he hesitated a little too long, when Patrick spoke.

“It’s ok, really, let’s do this,” Patrick smiled at him. He unpacked his laptop and headphones, placing them on the bed next to Pete. “You ready to make some cool shit?” Patrick eyed Pete, careful and questioning.

“Yeah, let’s make some epic shit!” Pete beamed at Patrick. He shoved the notebook into Patrick’s hands, opened to the new lyrics. Patrick scanned the lyrics, bobbing his head on the second read through. Pete watched Patrick mess around on GarageBand, chewing his lower lip as he worked. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the singer, but he knew better than to interrupt his work flow. Besides, it wasn’t the right time. He wanted to tell Patrick how he felt, wanted to tell him all the things he would do for him, but not now. Now was not the time. Not even when Patrick was sitting next to him, being cute as hell with his lip biting and his intense, tired focus. He tapped on Patrick’s shoulder. The singer held one headphone away from his ear.

“Want me to go grab you a Red Bull?” Pete asked, already putting his shoes back on. Patrick tilted his head as he considered this.

“Yeah, we’ll be up late, won’t we?” he replied, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. A third pang of guilt rang through Pete. “Yeah, that’d be great!” he smiled at Pete, reassuringly.


End file.
